


The Bedroom

by domini_porter



Series: Scenes from Domestic Life [8]
Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 21:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15827178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domini_porter/pseuds/domini_porter





	The Bedroom

" _Another_  one?" Jane groaned, flopping back on the bed, flinging her arm across her face.

Maura pursed her lips. "You'd think I was asking you to rewrite tax code," she said, whisking hangers across the bar with a terrifying efficiency.

"I'd rather be doing that," Jane grumbled.

"Really?" Maura paused, looked at her. "You'd rather be examining hundreds of thousands of pages of legal jargon related to extremely specific and obscure corporate shelter deductions?"

"Give me the dress." Jane held out her hand, not sitting up.

Maura sighed and marched over to the bed, dangling a simple green sheath in front of her. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with this one. No ruffles, no bows, no appliques—"

"No pants," Jane muttered.

"This is the symphony, Jane," Maura chided. "You can't wear pants unless they're part of a tuxedo, and even though I'm sure you'd be quite dashing, the symphony audience is quite a few years behind popular culture in terms of gender identity."

"You don't even know anything  _about_  popular culture."

Maura frowned. "I know . . .  _some_  things."

"Name one person nominated for a Grammy in the past ten years."

Maura sighed, rolled her eyes. "Even  _I_  know nobody cares about the Grammys, Jane."

"I don't want to wear a dress!" Jane whined.

"Well," Maura said, biting her lip in thought. "Would it help if you saw what I'm going to wear?"

Jane sat up.

"Does that mean you'll be taking your clothes off?"

"And putting different clothes on."

"But the first part, that's true?"

Maura smiled. "I suppose if that's what it will take to get you dressed for our date, then yes, it means I'll be taking my clothes off."

"Good," Jane smiled, settling back on the bed. "Show me what you've got, I'd hate for us to clash."

"Jane," Maura sighed, "do you honestly think I'd be offering you options that would clash with what I'd already selected for myself? Especially considering of the two of us, I'm the only one I'd trust with a decision like this?"

"Jeez, Maura, you'd think we were talking about nuclear codes. It's just  _dress_  codes. And I really do not understand why I have to wear one at all."

"Public nudity carries a heavy fine and possible jail time; as a detective I assumed you were aware of that."

"Thanks for the cop lesson, Lady Godiva," Jane muttered.

"It was a joke."

"I know it was. And it wasn't so bad, as far as . . . your jokes go. But please,  _please_  do not make me wear a dress."

"Jane," Maura said, her voice low, sultry. "You know you're going to end up in a dress, so we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Jane lifted an eyebrow.

"Are you giving me a choice?"

Maura smirked.

"There's a reason I made us start getting ready at two p.m.," she said, slipping her shoes off. "You always pick the hard way."

"You love the hard way," Jane said, blushing slightly.

"I do find a challenging victory to be more exciting than a simple one on occasion, it's true," Maura grinned.

Jane gulped.

"What . . . uh, what makes you think you'll win?"

"Because, Jane," Maura purred, kneeling on the bed and sliding up until she was straddling her, leaning down so her hair tickled Jane's face, "I always win."

Jane gulped.

"Now," Maura whispered, "are you going to try on the dress?"

"I believe," Jane stammered, "you were going to show me yours."

"You'll have to unzip me," Maura said, smiling, "again."

"That's something you'll never hear me complaining about," Jane grinned. She grasped Maura's waist and deftly swung her around until their positions were reversed, Maura on her back, Jane hovering over her.

"Now the zipper's on the wrong side," Maura said.

"Patience, Dr. Isles." Jane drifted her fingertips across the exposed skin of Maura's neck, tracing the scooped neckline of the dress she was currently wearing. Maura closed her eyes, smiled, shivered. "You're the one who let me pick the hard way."

"I suppose I did," Maura murmured, gasping softly as Jane leaned close and ran the tip of her tongue up the length of Maura's neck, biting gently at her earlobe. Jane's fingers continued wandering over the curve of Maura's breasts, across the plane of her stomach, tracing the ridge of her hips.

Maura wriggled and sighed as Jane touched her, traced her tongue around the shell curves of her ear. She reached for Jane, smiled dreamily when Jane caught her wrist, guided her arm up over her head, pinning her to the bed.

"Don't forget we're doing this the hard way," Jane breathed into Maura's ear, making her moan and writhe, tugging just slightly against Jane's grip.

"Be good," Jane murmured, "or you'll be enjoying your boring old people and boring old music alone."

Maura narrowed her eyes. "Mahler is  _anything_  but boring," she frowned. "The Fifth Symphony especially is quite-"

"Oh, well, if you'd told me it was  _Mahler_ ," Jane teased. She swung her leg over Maura's body, straddling her hips. "So you'll be very good, then," she breathed, pulling Maura's other arm up, holding her wrists together with one hand.

"Very good," Maura murmured, her eyes dark, pupils huge, her voice rough and silky at once. Jane's eyes slid closed, she pushed her hips against Maura's, relishing the way Maura arched against her in response.

Jane grinned and nipped softly at Maura's collarbone, her free hand tangling in Maura's hair.

"Harder," Maura murmured throatily. Jane twisted her hand, tugging on Maura's hair, shivering at Maura's growl of pleasure.

"Tell me what you want," Jane rasped, squeezing Maura's wrists, pulling at her hair.

"I want . . . ohh, I want-Jane, is that your phone?"

"I don't care if it is," Jane breathed, her mouth pressed to Maura's neck.

"But it might be important!"

"More important than this?"

"It could be work. And do you really want to have to go into Lieutenant Cavanaugh's office and say 'sorry that murderer escaped, boss, but I was busy engaging in rough sex with your Chief Medical Examiner'?"

"Pretty sure he'd have my back on that," Jane muttered, not releasing her. "And wait, it was gonna be rough?"

"I thought you chose the hard way." Maura grinned wickedly. "It might get you out of the symphony at the very least, even though I wish you'd at least consider  _trying_  to be excited about the Mahler; almost nobody does a complete evening of a single composer unless it's Beethoven, and I've already heard six Beethoven concertos this season."

"I just hate it when I get to the symphony and it's Beethoven  _again_ ," Jane rolled her eyes.

"Answer your phone!"

"God, okay, I'm doing it," Jane grumbled. "Rizzoli. You stay there," she hissed at Maura. "Oh, uh, nothing, Jo was trying to eat my shoes. Yes, I know I need new shoes. Yes, I'll ask Maura if she'll take me, it'll be like her birthday and Christmas and the day they release the new Physician's Desk Reference all rolled up in one. What's up?"  _Ma_ , she mouthed, grimacing. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, that's uh, that sure does sound terrible. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'd love to come help you and your cousin Teresa try to get her crackhead son off the water tower but we've got a whole division just for stuff like that. Why didn't you call Frankie, he's patrol."

Maura smiled and pushed herself off the bed, ignoring Jane's affronted stare. "Unzip me," she whispered, standing in front of Jane expectantly.

"Not fair," Jane whispered. "I told you to stay on the bed. Uh-Jo," she said, a frantic expression on her face. "Nothing, Ma, the dog just . . . uh, sure does love those shoes."

Maura smirked, sweeping her hair off her neck. Jane unzipped her dress, unable to suppress a faint groan of remorse.

"What's that? No, it's fine, just so sad about Teresa's kid. Call Frankie, love you, gotta go!" She threw the phone across the room. "You got off the bed," she pouted.

"One never knows what direction a call from your mother will take," Maura said, shrugging her dress off her shoulders. "And with dinner reservations at six, I didn't want to take any chances."

"Dinner? Please tell me it's cheeseburgers."

"They might have cheeseburgers at L'Espalier, but I doubt it," Maura said, her dress puddling at her feet.

Jane was too entranced by the sight of Maura's bare skin to complain for a moment.

"What, no mangling of French? No snide comments about escargot?"

"I'm, uh . . . I'm a little busy right now," Jane said, crossing to Maura and running her hands across her body, kissing her neck. "I'm sure L'Ice Capades will be great."

Maura giggled. The sound made Jane break into a wide smile, and she wrapped her arms around Maura, pulling her close.

"You should just wear what you're wearing right now," Jane mumbled in her ear.

"That thing I said about public nudity-"

"You're not technically nude," Jane said, sliding one hand over the soft lace of Maura's bra. "And this way you could be sure everybody would notice your outfit."

". . . and nobody would notice yours. Nice try, Jane." Maura turned to face her. "You're wearing a dress tonight."

Jane groaned and stamped her foot.

"Did you honestly just stamp your foot?"

Jane shrugged.

"Well, now you're wearing the one I like," Maura said, grinning.

"Wait, whoa, I take it back."

"No take-backs," Maura teased. "And why are you always so sure I'm determined to make you look ridiculous?"

"Because I  _always_  look ridiculous in dresses," Jane grumbled.

Maura sighed and shook her head. "Quit being ridiculous, Jane, you're beautiful."

"But-"

"You're beautiful," Maura repeated, her tone brooking no argument. "And it is a pleasure for me to see you dressed up, and to know that I get to take you home at the end of the night."

Jane smiled bashfully. "I know the feeling."

"So will you please wear the dress?"

"I guess," she said, her tone exaggeratedly conciliatory.

"And you'll sit across from me at the restaurant and behave yourself when I mention how lovely you look by candlelight?"

"Awww, Maura!" Jane cried, kicking at the leg of Maura's dressing table. "Now I'm embarrassed. I'm already embarrassed. You have pre-embarrassed me."

"Good," Maura said, turning back to her closet, "you'll be prepared. Now," she said, pulling a soft gold V-necked dress off its hanger, "put this on."

"It's nice, I guess," Jane admitted.

"It's vintage Chanel, of course it's nice."

"So I probably shouldn't get ketchup on it, then."

"I'd appreciate it." She smiled as Jane set the garment carefully on the back of the chair at the dressing table, her fingers drifting over the fabric. "See?" Maura said. "You like it."

"Let's not go crazy."

"Being with you, Jane, I'm fairly certain going at least a little crazy is inevitable."

Jane leaned in and kissed her, tugging lightly on her hair. "what time is dinner?"

"The reservation is for six o'clock."

"And what time is it now?"

Maura glanced at the clock next to the bed. "Three-thirty."

"So," Jane said slowly, twirling a lock of Maura's hair around her finger, "it takes what, like a minute to throw a dress on? Even if it's a vintage Chanel?"

"But Jane, my hair-"

"People pay good money to have a stranger do to their hair what I'm about to do to yours for free. Unless you don't think the symphony audience is ready for that freshly-fucked look."

Maura blushed. "I always wanted to be avant-garde," she murmured. "And Mahler  _was_  a Late Romantic."

"Aww," Jane smiled, kissing Maura's cheek, "that makes three of us."

 


End file.
